


Bunny Love

by WhimsicalMayhem



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Oneshot, cute stuff, modern!AU, rabbit phobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalMayhem/pseuds/WhimsicalMayhem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson straightened out his vest, puffing out his chest a little while doing so.</p>
<p>This was it. His phobia had gone on for long enough. It was time to face his fears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bunny Love

Wilson straightened out his vest, puffing out his chest a little while doing so.

This was it. His phobia had gone on for long enough. It was time to face his fears.

Holding his head high, the scientist approached the animal shelter. He grasped the handle firmly and opened the door with more gusto than such a mundane action needed.

He was met by a very unimpressive, vacant, front counter. Well, almost vacant. The cat who had previously been napping there opened a single eye at his entrance.

Wilson let out a breath he hadn’t know he had been holding. So far, so good.

“I’ll be just a minute!” Called a voice from somewhere deeper in the shelter. He jumped at it, only to hurriedly collect himself.

Okay, this was...just fine. Really. He could handle this. He was a scientist! He's delved into mysteries of the universe, going toe-to-toe with the unknown! Some -Wilson shuddered at the word, even when only in his head - rabbits should not phase him. He was thirty one, damnit! 

Attempting to suppress the nervous jitters, Wilson decided to get better knowledge of his surroundings. 

The front was, as previously stated, unimpressive. There was a counter where the staff would stand behind and a couple of chair littered about for customers. Otherwise the walls were filled with various animal products. There was a set of double doors on the far wall, propped open. He assumed they lead to the part of the establishment that actually held animals.

And out of those double doors came a woman cradling a sleeping puppy in one arm.

Wilson estimated she was somewhere in her early to mid twenties, despite the dark bags that hung under her eyes indicating lack of sleep. Her hair was similar in color to his; a stark raven, but hers was longer and pulled up into twin pigtails. The apparel she wore told him she worked here; a skirt with leggings and a simple red work blouse with a name tag on it. It read Willow Bennett.

They froze. The woman looked down at the puppy in her arms and then back up at him.

“Oops,” she whispered. “Give me a moment to put him back, will you?”

He nodded, but she had retreated back before she could notice the gesture. A couple of minutes later and she exited the room, puppy free.

“Hello and welcome to Bennett’s, how may I help you?” She asked. Wilson hesitated.

This was it. He had to stay strong!

“Um, yes, good day.” he started. He was already fiddling nervously with the bottoms of his sleeves. The woman raised an eyebrow at this. Wilson swallowed hard.

“I would like to see your rabbits.” 

The woman gave a small smile. “That's unusual, but alright. Follow me to the back.” She turned swiftly and walked off, causing Wilson to have to jog to catch up to her.

The back was much, much larger than the front portion. There were more products, but also spaces where animals were kept. He spotted a very interesting little lizard habitat and a pool full of dazzling multicolored fish. Occasionally from the rafters above he would hear the chirping of a bird.

“This is a - ah - very nice shelter you have here Miss...” 

“Please; its not mine, its my mothers. I’m taking over while shes overseas for the next year. And don’t call me ‘Miss’. Just Willow is fine.”

Well, his attempt at small talk failed. Not that he was good at it anyhow. “Well then, Just Willow, your mother runs a very nice shelter.”

Willow stopped so abruptly that Wilson nearly ran into her. At first, he was afraid he had offended her in someway, but then he saw the slight smirk.

“Yes, she does. And your name?”

“What?”

“Well, this nice shelter likes to know at least the names of people who could possibly adopt its animals.”

Ah. Yes. He supposed she was right. Where were his manner today?

Straightening himself out, Wilson made himself look as business-like as possible. Striking out a hand he introduced himself.

“Wilson P. Higgsbury, scientist. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

There was a long pause. His hand remained hanging in midair.

Then; “Get out.”

Wilson faltered. “P-pardon?”

Willow moved to wave him off. “Get out of the shelter.”

“Wha- why?”

He backed up. The woman, a few inches shorter than him, approached with a murderous gaze. She poked her finger into his chest.

“You think you can just come in here and pick up cheap experiments, huh? That you can- can waltz in and take some innocent rabbits back to your lab! Huh?”

“Miss, that's not what -”

“My name is Willow and you are leaving right this instant!”

“Please, Willow, that's not why I’m here!”

They paused, him leaning back away from her and her leaning in towards him. Wilson took this moment to pull at the collar of his shirt and give a polite cough.

“I’m not here in search of...test subjects. I am a gentleman! Any animal to be tested upon besides rats would be cruel.” Willow glared at him and he winced.

“Oh? Then what are you doing here?” She huffed, putting her hands on her hips.

“Ah, well, you see...” He was going to have to explain it. He was going to have to explain to this fiery woman how he, a grown man and scientist, had a fear of rabbits. Oh, how the universe seemed to take pleasure in his misfortune.

“I, um...” he coughed again. “I’m trying to get rid of my fear of rabbits.”

Silence. She looked at him suspiciously.

“Fear of...rabbits?”

“Yes.”

He only had a split second to realize the smile she tried to suppress before Willow was doubled over with laughter. 

Wilson deadpanned, waiting with barely concealed impatience until the woman was able to speak again. 

“Are you quite done laughing at me?” he mumbled. Willow was wiping tears out of her eyes and using the wall to help her stand up straight.

“Of rabbits? Really?” she giggled. He frowned.

“Yes of rabbits, really. Thank you. Really, this interaction has made my day.”

“And you think just showing up and looking at some rabbits is going to help you get rid of your fear?”

Wilson faltered. “Well, I figured if I faced them...” he trailed off. He...hadn’t actually had a plan beyond that. Step one: Go to shelter. Step two: Face rabbit fear. Step three: Go home and have lunch?

That was unfortunately short sighted on his part.

Annnd Willow was giggling again. Fantastic.

“Listen, you don’t just get over a fear. Its something that takes time and positive reinforcement.” she stated, finally standing and brushing off her dress. “You can’t just see a bunny and be done. Its got to be done in increments.”

That...made sense, actually. 

“And how exactly would one go about doing that?” Wilson asked.

“Well, I would start by making nice with the woman who runs the shelter so she can let you in.” He sighed and she wiggled an eyebrow. “Then I would prescribe coming in once a week to see the rabbits. Over time, the fear will probably dissipate.”

“For how long?”

Willow shrugged. “How am I supposed to know? I’m not the one trying to get rid of his fear of fluffy woodland creatures.”

Ah, a while then.

“We can start today if you like?”

Wilson stared at her. After her fit of laughing some of her hair had slipped from her pigtails and she was brushing it back. She looked...eager. That didn't sit quite well with him.

“You actually want to help me with this?” he asked skeptically. “After you nearly threw me out and then laughed at me?”

Willow blew a piece of hair from in front of her face. “Sure, why not? Its not like it's busy here.” she gestured around. Sure enough it was just the two of them.

Well, he had come here to face his fears. And this woman was willing to help him, which was more than he could say about anyone else he’d ever met. 

“Very well then. Show me to the beasts.”

Willow lead him farther into the back. “They aren't beasts.” she grumbled.

Maybe this would work, Wilson thought. Maybe he could actually stop being afraid of rabbits. For now he would call it an experiment, with, of course, him being the test subject. He’d have to write up a report when he got home. Create a chart to measure his data on, maybe think up of a way to transmute his emotions into something a little more easily analyzable on paper. He would need a timeline, of course. It couldn’t be more than a month of his time, surely...

He was so lost in thought he missed when Willow opened the rabbit pen, which was really just a large area with chicken wire around.

“Here they are! All thirty of them! Now this time you’re not going to actually come in contact with them, just -”

Wilson’s high-pitched scream pierced the air like a hot knife through butter. The scientist leap back away from the pit of monsters and behind Willow, using her as a human shield.

...or maybe he was biting off more than he could chew.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

The next month went the same way. Wilson would get near the rabbit pen, only to shriek and back out, itching his arms and shuddering.

Willow would watch patiently, close up the pen, and talk him down before he went home for the night.

Around the beginning of month two, Wilson started bringing coffee.

He claimed it was because an invention had kept him up late that night, but he had brought two cups in a carry-away container from the coffee shop down and around the way. Before the inevitable, they would sip coffee and talk about their day. It was...nice. Willow didn’t have much interaction except with the rare customer, and Wilson didn't really talk to anyone in his classes.

“So you’re still in school too?” she asked, taking a large gulp of the still scalding coffee.

Wilson nodded. “Yes. I’m hoping to get a PhD soon, but I’m afraid I’ve made my subjects...quite varied.”

“Well, you’re a man of science; what science do you study?”

“All of them.”

Willow nearly choked on her beverage.

“All of them?!”

The scientist smiled. “Yes. I started my secondary education, not to achieve a milestone in the amount of years I can endure the system, but to actually educate myself about the sciences so that I can further my endeavors and explorations into the mysteries of the universe.”

He sipped at his coffee. When he looked up again, Willow was staring at him. He nearly spilled his drink.

Her head was tilted to the side, using the palm of her hand as a rest for her cheek. It was now that he realized how absolutely stunning her eyes were; so blue they were almost white and with the ability to seemingly stare right into his soul. Wilson swallowed heavily, a slight flush rising to his cheeks.

“That's -” Here it comes; the teasing. The taunting. He prepared himself for the sting of her words.

“-really awesome. Wow, you must be really passionate about science. Not that I couldn’t tell that already, but wow. All of them.” He blinked vacuously at her. Huh? “All I’ve got to my name is almost-bachelors in liberal arts and a metric ton of girl scout stuff.”

“You...you actually think that's okay?” Wilson asked. Was she sick? Did she had too much caffeine? He was almost tempted to touch her forehead to check if she was feverish, but somehow the action seemed too forward.

“Yeah. It really shows you love something. Anyone tells you differently, you punch them in the face.”

He chuckled. “Yes, because that's what gentleman do; punch people in the face when they disagree with their opinion.”

Willow scoffed. “There is a distinct difference between someone’s opinion and someone being an asshole. If you’re too ‘gentleman’ enough to punch a guy out, you come get your friend Willow. I’ll teach them what a real right hook feels like.”

If he wasn’t blushing already, Wilson was now.

Friend. She had claimed herself his friend. How long had it been since he had had one of those?

This time it was him staring. If he had to honest it was probably something doe eyed and that made him cringe.

Willow noticed.

“What?” she asked, swiping the back of her hand across her mouth. “Have I got something on my face?”

Wilson snapped out of it and cleared his throat. “No! No, I...just thought we should get on to the nitty-gritty of this evening.”

Willow smiled, and for some reason that made his heart do a flip in his chest.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

By the third month, Wilson was at least improving. He could go by the rabbit pen and observe the creatures without running away or screaming. They still made him shudder and his skin crawl, but it was tolerable.

He was finished with his daily viewing one night. Willow was, as per usual, standing out of sight nearby, but also close enough to provide assistance if needed. She looked to be deep in thought when Wilson spotted her. She had her lighter out and was flicking it on and off.

The lighter. At first, Willow had done her best to hide it from him. Eventually he noticed it though - it was hard to miss the way she would open it when she thought he was busy and stare adoringly at the tiny flame it provided. The first time he had caught her with it, she had flicked it off and hidden it behind her back, like a child caught with a stolen cookie.

He hadn’t said anything then, but she had been much more open with it, such as now.

“Willow?”

She started, nearly dropping her lighter. Swiftly she closed it, but didn't try and hide it in the folds of her skirt.

“H-hey! How’d it go? I didn't hear any screaming.” she breathed.

“Fairly well, actually. I think this is working.” Wilson smiled. He did that a lot more when he was with Willow. He didn't question it.

“Skill got the shakes, huh?” She noted his still trembling form.

“Is it that noticeable?” Willow nodded. 

Wilson spied the lighter again, as she ran her thumb down the etched surface.

“Isn’t it a little dangerous to be using a lighter in here?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Willow scowled at him. “Not with me, it isn't. I know how to deal with fire.” 

“Ah, girl scouts, yes?”

She was quiet, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “...Yes. Come on, let’s get up to the front. I’ve already finished getting stuff ready for the night back here.”

The woman lead him to the front of the shelter, pausing briefly to close the double doors and lock them up.

“You’re mother and father must trust you a lot to place this establishment into your care, especially for such a long period of time.”

Willow fumbled with the keys she had been trying to get back into the pocket of her skirt.

“Oh, um...mother. Just my mother.”

“You’re father doesn’t run it as well?”

She gave a huff of laughter. “Only in spirit.”

Wilson’s face fell. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The scientist gave a polite cough, determined to change the flow of this conversation to something positive. “Well, I’m sure you mother is very proud of you.”

The woman scoffed. “Not really. We haven’t really seen eye to eye since I was diagnosed with -” Willow stopped abruptly, realizing she had said too much. Her eyes flickered between Wilson and the floor.

“Pyromania. Since I was diagnosed with pyromania.” She finished.

Mission failed. Wilson wasn’t sure what the flammability of a conversation was, but he was pretty certain that this one was crashing and burning.

And to make matters worse, he decided to say the first thing that came to mind.

“That's fascinating.”

Willow whipped around to face him so fast she was nothing but a blur. Her face was pinched in confusion.

“What?” she asked.

Panicking. Wilson was panicking. Oh, he had really stepped in it now. He never really had been good at the whole...interacting with people thing. Many months alone, stowed away in his lab, had ensured that.

“I, uh-” His face burned something fierce; he hoped she didn't notice it, but there was honestly very little chance of that. “I may have said that I think your pyromania is...well, hm, fascinating. In a good way! That is to say, not that there is a bad way! Or that you weren’t fascinating before! Your a very intriguing young woman! I just thought that pyromania as a mental condition is not something that I have encountered before...” He gave a nervous laugh at the end, letting the rest of his ramblings wither and die.

Willow looked at him as if he had sprouted a third head.

Wilson decided that the tiles of the shelter had been intriguing him since he first set foot into this building. The silence was heavy and uncomfortable; not like the pleasant lulls in conversation they had shared before.

“What about you?”

Wilson jerked his head too fast to look at her and cracked his neck. He gave a soft hiss.

“W-huh?”

Willow was leaning against the wall, appraising him coolly. “What about your family. I spilled my soul, how about a little bit of yours?”

Oh. Well, he supposed that was only fair...

“I..don’t have much of one, actually. We hailed from the great country of England, moving here when I was about twelve with my mother, who was an English teacher. My father was a doctor. He got exposed to...something on an overseas trip. He died of brain deterioration before he reached English soil, leaving me and my mother with enough to get by. I’m afraid England did little for my mother's mental state however, and we moved to America for a...change of scenery.”

It had been a while since he had thought of his parents. Losing them had been hard on a young Wilson, but since then the wounds had scabbed over using isolation and science as his special brand of treatment.

“My mother got sick whilst I was in my first year of college. Ovarian cancer. She never recovered and was laid to rest when I was just past twenty one.” Wilson gave a small, wan, smile. “Ever since it had just been yours truly and his work.”

Willow features had softened, he realized. Brows pinched and exceptionally exquisite eyes just a fraction wider than usual. 

“That would explain the accent.” she said softly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“As am I of yours.”

Thunder rumbled outside of the shelter.

“Ah,” Wilson stood abruptly, fixing his vest. “I should get home before the rain comes. Will you be alright to close up by yourself?”

He didn’t know why he added the question on; she had proven many times over that she could.

It wasn’t until she had laughed, shooing him away with assurances of her safety, that he discovered it was because he cared.

 ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Month four had Wilson attempting to stand in the rabbit pen.

He had tried to get out of it; pleaded, bribed, coerced, but the woman who ran this shop was having none of it. Willow just...smiled at him, one eyebrow arched, and stood her ground.

It was infuriating!

But, admittedly, the push he needed.

“Come on Wilson. All you need to do is step into the pit of death.”

Wilson, who currently had his eyes closed, frowned deeply.

“Not funny.” he growled.

“Oh no it is. You should be seeing it from my point of view.” He could hear the smile on her face. The scientist was almost tempted to open his eyes just to see it.

That was something he had been doing a lot lately; observing her. He watched how her expression changed and how she moved around the shop. How when she was deep in thought, her thumb would stroke the engraving on her lighter, as if it were a worry stone.

He especially liked it when she laughed.

Really, he was starting to worry himself.

Or maybe that was just the rabbits.

Wilson took a step back from the rabbit pen. “I-Willow, I really don’t think I’m ready for this yet.” His voice came out higher pitched and trembling. What an impression he was making! He was showing the only friend he had what a coward he was.

“Wilson, they’re just rabbits! They won’t bite you! Maybe just...nibble.”

“They may be just rabbits to you, Willow, but they are much more to me!” He snapped, his stress getting the better of him. “I-” he swallowed heavily, shoulders sinking. “I don’t think I can do this.”

This was it. This was him admitting that he was in over his head. She would give up on him, and he would never be welcome in this place again. He would just go back to his experiments, knowing that he still had a terrible fear of rabbits and haunted by a pair of pearly blue eyes-

A warm hand enveloped his cold and clammy one. It shocked Wilson so much he opened his eyes.

There she was, half of her in the rabbit pen, the other half out, reaching out to him. 

“Then let me help you.” She said.

And he was speechless. 

It was such a simple action, nothing special by far, but also...it was. The way she looked at him, the way the lights illuminated her... Willow was somehow ethereal, the embodiment of a kindred spirit.

Wilson was so dumbfounded, he allowed her to pull him forward. That, however, also broke the spell.

“Willow, I can’t.” he attempted to gently pry himself away, but her grip was much better than she portrayed.

“Come on. Wilson, just...trust me, okay?”

He hesitated.

Then let her lead him into the pit.

He stumbled over the chicken wire a bit, but Willow steadied him. When a curious bunny brushed by his leg, he yelped and clung to her more tightly. Instead of letting go of him, or laughing at him, she talked to him. Simple topics, things that he would have to explain to her. Things that kept him talking.

Eventually, he got less and less tense. The rabbits were only interested in him for a couple of minutes before they went off to do their own rabbit-y things. That left him talking to Willow in an enclosed circle of animals that, Wilson realized, didn’t really care about him.

Willow saw him looking at a rabbit, not in fear, but in puzzlement. She giggled and squeezed his hand encouragingly.

“See? Not that bad right?”

He have a nervous laugh, looking away from the rabbit to the junction where their hands met. He squeezed her hand back.

“No. Not bad at all.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Month five he had to sit in the pit.

As if standing had been bad enough! Now he had to be closer to the beasts?

Although, if Wilson had to be honest with himself, the rabbits weren’t quite as bad as he thought. Instead of dreading the visits and the emotional trials they put him through, he found himself looking forward to them. Spending time with Willow was enjoyable. Very enjoyable.

He was juggling the idea of maybe coming to see her more than once a week. And not to deal with his rabbit phobia - just to be in each other’s company.

Almost like a date.

Not that he was asking her on a date! No, no, they were...just friends! Willow was his friend! A friend that was trying to cure him of his fears! A friend that he just so happened to memorize the way she liked her coffee. A friend that would hold his hand when he was nervous and it actually worked in calming him down. A friend that made his heart skip a beat when they made eye contact....

A friend.

So Wilson was a little surprised when he opened the door to the shelter and Willow wasn’t waiting for him in the front like she usually was.

“Willow?” He called out. No reply. It could be she was just busy at the moment - maybe she had stepped out to get something? The scientist looked around, spotting a piece of colorful paper on the counter.

Thinking it was a note, he picked it up.

It wasn’t.

“Dear Willow,” he read aloud. “You, me summer dance, b-b-y?” Wilson’s brow scrunched up in confusion. Was that an...acronym or something? “Maybe you’d look less ugly with me by your side. C'mon, honey I’m doing you a favor. Think it over long and hard. I can make the time pleasurable.” There was something taped onto the bottom of the invite. The scientist leaned in for closer inspection.

With a yelp, Wilson dropped the condom and its attached card and wiped his hands on his vest. 

Anger boiled fiercely in his gut. How dare some hooligan say such things about Willow! She was a bit fiery and very stubborn, but she was also extremely attractive. And the things the anonymous writer had insinuated them doing-!

Wilson stomped on the note, grinding it into the ground with his heel.

Willow deserved a lad a hundred times better than some cheeky, sex crazed lout. 

Speaking of which, he had to find her.

Abandoning the invitation, Wilson traversed deeper into the shelter.

“Willow? Willow! Willow, please come out!” He called. The back of the shelter was like a labyrinth - she could be hiding anywhere. “Willow! I...I read the invitation...”

“Oh, Wilson...”

He followed her voice. It was quiet, almost a whisper, but enough.

The scientist found Willow in the rabbit pen, sitting there cross-legged, despite her skirt, and desperately wiping away tears. She glanced at him, face contorted in sorrow and pain. All the rage in Wilson dissipated and was replaced by a hollow feeling. Like someone had yanked out his heart and let it beat on the cold floor. 

“Wilson, why do men have to be such beasts?”

He didn’t have an answer for her, so instead he stepped towards the rabbit pen. Without stumbling, he got over the chicken wire and strode over to where she sat. Scooching some rabbits away with his foot, the scientist sat down next to her.

Wilson extended a hand, only to withdraw it quickly. He let out a polite cough.

“May I...?” He gestured the opening for a hug. Willow nodded, and leapt on him.

The scientist was rather surprised, holding his hands aloft and staring, bemused, at the woman who clung to him. Eventually he lowered his arms, wrapping them around her form.

She was warm. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten a hug from someone.

“Its okay,” he breathed. “Its okay. Don’t let them get to you.”

“Stupid! I was so stupid! I was walking to english and they were laughing at me! Calling me terrible names.”

“Why didn’t you punch them?” Wilson asked.

“I don’t know! I...I just ran. I didn’t want them to call me a slut anymore.”

Wilson gave huff. “Should have called me.”

Willow looked up at him. “I thought you were too gentlemanly to fight”

“Not for you, I’m not.”

Wilson felt like someone had thrown him off a cliff. All the air was gone from his lungs and his heart was stuck in his throat because it was at this very minute he figured out he was in love with this woman he held in his lap.

This woman whose hair was frazzled and pigtails were unkempt from worrying at them. The woman whose cobalt eyes were red and swollen from crying. Who's usually steady body trembled and breath shook with every gulp of air. She smelled a lot like burning wood, a bit of sweat, and very little of something sweet. She was witty, and smart, and kind, and determined, and a million other words that Wilson wished he had spent more time in english class learning.

And he also realized that he wasn’t going to tell her.

At least, not right now.

No, Wilson swallowed the words that he almost blurted out and held Willow tighter, whispering sweet nothings and encouragements into her ear.

“Wilson-” she managed. “I’m sorry.”

He gave her a look of disbelief. “Whatever for?”

“The rabbits.”

Wilson actually chuckled. He rubbed her back, trailing his hand along the length of her spine. “Don’t worry. A friend taught me that this isn’t near as bad as I make it out to be.”

Willow gave a breathy chuckle.

They sat like that until night fell.

________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

On month six, Wilson successfully held a bunny in his hands without fear.

Willow had thrown him a little party, with cake and coffee. All thirty of the rabbits were invited. She had named them all, of course, though he had no idea how she remembered them all.

She had leapt into his arms and Wilson had barely been able to catch her.

“You did it Wilson! You’re not afraid anymore.”

They were smiling and laughing and having a good time.

But when he left, Wilson couldn’t help but feel empty.

It was over.

He had gotten rid of his fear, just like he had wanted. When faced with a rabbit, he would be just fine.

But now he had no reasonable excuse to come back.

____________________________________________________________________________________ 

Three weeks later, Wilson stood outside the animal shelter and straightened out his vest.

This was it.

Sliding up to the door, he opened it softly, slipping in as quietly as possible.

He tucked the fire orchids behind his back.

Willow was slouched over the counter, playing with a cat and looking extremely bored. When she finally spotted him, it was like a cloud had moved away from the sun.

“Wilson! Hey! How are you? Haven’t...seen you around for a little bit.” Willow flushed. “Did you, uh, have another fear you wanted to get over? Dogs this times? Or maybe frogs?” She gave a chuckle. He responded with a smile.

“No, no, just the one that needed rectifying. I came here just to chat actually.”

She perked up. “Oh? Well thats great-uh, yeah. I mean, it gets pretty lonely here and I really missed having you around.” 

Oh.

Wilson thrust his hand out, flowers in tow. It was a bit forceful, and a few petals scattered onto the counter.

Willow leapt back, startled by the action.

“What the- oh.” She paused. After a few seconds she managed to pry the flowers from the scientist’s hands.

“These are...pretty.” the firestarter poked at the orange and red toned orchids. “Whats the occasion?”

Was it hot in here? Or was it just her? Wilson adjusted the collar of his shirt.

“I - well you see - Would you...like to get lunch?”

Slowly a smile spread across Willow’s face. “Well, Mr. Higgsbury are you asking me on a date?”

It was her. He wondered how anyone could make him go from perpetually cool and clammy to warm and flushed in a matter of seconds. The scientist filed that away for an experiment on another day.

“Ah- yes. Yes I am. Its just a little street cafe around the corner and it very casual. Of course, if you don’t want to, that completely fine. I understand if you don’t fancy me and wish to decl-”

Wilson couldn’t finish his sentence, because Willow had leaned over the table, looped a finger on his vest, and pulled him into a kiss.

It was chaste and quick, but it had Wilson feeling as if someone had ran an electrical current in his veins. When she pulled away, smirking, he had to remind himself to breath. Her lips had been so soft...

“Its about time you asked. I accept. Under one condition.” 

“Name it.”

“We get to do that again.”

Willow leapt over the counter, brushing past a still flustered Wilson to flip the sign on the door from ‘open’ to ‘closed’.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Again I bring to you more Willowson goodness! This was inspired by some tumblr AU prompts and honestly just got out of hand in the most lovely of ways. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading!


End file.
